


Good Boy

by The_Smut_King



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is only mentioned don’t worry, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, At least I imply it, Bottom Keith, Dirty Talk, Light Feminization, M/M, Mafia Lance, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Top Lance, stripper keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 08:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Smut_King/pseuds/The_Smut_King
Summary: Keith doesn’t have to fear anything if he’s wrapped up so prettily as Lance’s baby.





	Good Boy

The metal of the pole is cold and unforgiving. The audience even more so as they pick your body apart to see if you’re worth their time. To see if you’re worth their money. 

To see if you’re worth their love.

Keith knows life in this business is hard, found out his first time on the pole that you’re either loved or gone. Learned that this life is unfair, especially to a broke college student. And he’s only here still because the crowd enjoys the way his porcelain skin shimmers under the glow of the hazy red light. 

Keith’s only here still because he caught the eyes of a hunter. 

Sapphire blue and as stormy as a hurricane, those predatory eyes stare at him from the plush couch Lance sits on like a throne. Caramel hands holding onto Keith’s waist possessively, almost like a dragon would hold their prized possession. 

And in a way? Keith does belong to Lance.

Especially now, in the dark private show room with Lance’s fingers digging their prints into his skin. The scrape of those perfect white teeth against Keith’s throat tears a shiver from his body as he arches his back.

“So pretty for me, doll.” Lance’s voice washes over him like a tidal wave that Keith doesn’t fear anymore. Not when it’s Lance and definitely not when that praise pulls a soft whimper from his red lips. 

His own hands, smaller in comparison, grip onto the fine suit jacket that clings to Lance’s broad shoulders like a second skin while he feels Lance thrust up into him. Their private shows always go like this, with Keith sweaty from a performance and Lance possessive over the fact that other people had seen the smaller male and holding a need to claim. 

Today’s performance had Keith in a pair of dark blue lace panties- a small sign of ownership throughout the club -and a black mesh crop top that held tight as Keith had spun and twirled to the sensual rhythm of the music. 

Now those panties hang from the ankle of his right leg where it dangles on the outside of the wine red chair, bouncing with every thrust and making the fabric sway at the motion.

“Ah! Fuck..mmm, Lance!” Keith sings for the man in pitches he hadn’t known he could hit, throwing his head back as the next thrust strikes against his prostate and sends a bolt of lightning up his spine. But just as he begins to crest, Lance stops.

“What’d you call me, baby?” The question breaks through the fog in Keith’s head, making the raven haired man whine. The sound hitches into a broken cry as one of Lance’s hands slip from his waist to slap against his ass with a harsh clap. But the hand doesn’t move, just grips the cheek it had just stained red harshly.

“I’m s-sorry, Daddy.” It’s not the first time Keith has muttered those words but it still leaves him embarrassed at how much power Lance holds over him with just a simple phrase. But like most things with Lance, it’s worth it for the way the Cuban purrs with delight against Keith’s throat. 

Keith dares to glance down, amethyst meeting cloudy waters as Lance begins to thrust again. They’re a contrast to each other, with Keith as pale as a dove and with Lance as dark as the mocha the dancer had drank earlier.

“That’s my good boy.” The praise makes Keith tremble because if he’s Lance’s good boy, no one can hurt him. Lance takes care of things good for him with the snap of his fingers. 

Keith nearly wails as Lance picks up speed, the rough bite of his slacks’ zipper biting into Keith’s already abused ass with every thrust. Lance hadn’t even bothered to completely undress before he had dragged Keith onto his lap and prepped him with large fingers splitting the boy open. The dancer’s legs bounce harder and harder when Lance begins to lift his pelvis with every thrust, nearly standing now as his hands tighten on Keith.

“Oh yes! Oh fuck! Daddy! D-ah! Daddy! R...right there! Please!” He knows he’s begging now, can just barely realize that the broken moans and pitching cries are leaving his lips as Lance nails his prostate over and over again- the cock inside him rubbing harshly against every groove in Keith’s body.

“That’s it, fuck! Baby! Want daddy to cum in you? Want...mm fuck keep tightening like that, Kitten!” Lance’s voice echoes in the stifling room gruffly and Keith can feel his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

It’s so good, so rough. Every thrust bouncing Keith’s entire body with the filthy muted sound of wet skin slapping against each other. Every thrust punching weak cry after wailing moan from Keith’s throat while his own cock flaps against his stomach as an angry red hue. 

“Daddy! Da...ahhh!” A strangled scream rips from Keith’s throat as thick white ropes of cum spurt from his cock. Keith’s flying with the pleasure, every muscle tightening up with his release before relaxing as limply as they can. All the while, Lance continues to thrust.

“Oh fuck! Such a good boy for daddy. Coming untouched like daddy’s good little slut!” The praise streams endlessly from Lance’s lips and leave Keith whining in overstimulated bliss. 

Soon, Keith feels the thrusts become sporadic and lose their rhythm slowly until Lance tenses. With an echoed groan, Keith tenses and relaxes as he was trained to do, milking the boiling hot semen from Lance’s cock happily. Then Keith lays like a dead weight against Lance’s chest and attempts to catch his breath.

The cum inside him is a welcomed feeling, but Keith can already feel the disapproving eyes of Allura as the dancer feels his own cum dry against his mesh top. So, Keith begins to pull away from Lance’s welcoming body heat.

He stays perched on the Cuban, however, when those hands tighten once again and pull him close.

“What? Couldn’t get enough, daddy?” Keith purrs our breathlessly, nearly gasping for air. Lance, the bastard, simply smirks and brings Keith in for a kiss that’s just as claiming as the sex- their tongues dancing together briefly before they part with matching smiles on their faces.

“Always for you, Kitten.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at That-Trans-Matt for more bottom Keith shiz


End file.
